The Flagbearer
by Negasi
Summary: They say that revenge can mould your life, and in the case of young Agosh this is true. His life has been moulded from a young age. He will stop at nothing to get revenge, the problem is he doesn't know what exactly the revenge is. Rated T for the future.


The Flagbearer  
Prologue: The Background On Revenge  
Author's Note: Well my first completed attempt at even a prologue for a World of Warcraft fiction, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Keep in mind that it is only a prologue giving you some background information and gets much better later. Review if you get a chance too please. that would be so helpful. Thanks so much!

Warsong Gulch, the battleground most young adventurers find themselves thrust into early on in their lives. A place where killers, healers, and tactical geniuses come into their own. Flags run with alarmingly astounding precision, death filling the air. Some choose this as a path of their life, and others do not enter the place a single time in their life. Some people feel that this violence between the two dominating political factions was pointless and a waste of time and others had stories that could make even the toughest of men cringe. Agosh had one of these stories.  
Born in the Valley of Trials, he was raised as a promising hunter in a land in dire need of a hero. He culled the boar population, and took the cactus stings with pride and dignity. He cleared his way through what the orcs around that part referred to as "The Cave" and retrieved many stolen items, all while killing off the disgusting demons that inhabited it. As his talent grew he was spoken about with more praise, as people recognized him with the respect he deserved. He was the happiest he had been in life, and as any orc knows, once you hit your high you start to roll down the other side of the mountain.  
They came in waves, amassing to about a hundred and twenty of them. Dwarves, humans, gnomes, night elves, and a few draeni. They were hell bent on destroying all members of the Horde in the area. They had arrived on the shores near Razor Hill and thanks to a few brave messengers, the Valley had been warned. What could you do against that many, with such little time to prepare? Besides their number was just bordering half that of the enemy. They called for everyone in the area, no matter how little experience, no matter how young. The orcs though they were civil, still felt the bloodlust call to them, and were eagerly awaiting this fight.  
The fight started as the first wave of forty Alliance rolled into the Valley, and surprisingly were cut down easily. They had not expected any resistance other than a few guards, and were mildly surprised and caught with their guard down. Arrows and bolts of magic flew through the air, while swords and shields clashed upon the battlefield as the second wave rolled into the Valley, followed shortly thereafter by the third wave. The Alliance now outnumbered the Horde, but the orcs were fully under the effects of their bloodlust, and supported by the trolls who shared their home, they were not giving up without a fight.  
Agosh stood hidden above the fight in the nearby hills, waiting for a chance to be useful in the fight. He had only his bow, and chipped axe that had seen many fights. Leather clung to his body tightly, allowing him to move fairly fast. He was light on his nimble feet and so thinking quickly he hopped across a rock that was his way, then caught it with an outstretched hand. He pulled himself behind the rock allowing for cover. Then seeing that the fight was turning against his people, he strung one of his limited arrows to his bow, and fired into the mass of Alliance. His shots were aimed at the back of the Alliance line, where the archers and magic users stood virtually unharmed. Let alone the priests and druids who did nothing but heal the wounded forces. The first arrow bit into a human mage who was in the middle of casting a fireball, breaking her concentration. The next four buried into her side, as she slumped to the ground. He kept firing, loosing a good twenty arrows before a draenei caught sight of him and proceeded to warn his comrades. Agosh was forced to duck behind the rock he was peeking out from, as fireballs and arrows scraped off of it.  
He looked down at his quiver, and saw few arrows left. He had not the experience to tame an animal yet, and so he had only one plan left. A stupid one, some may have thought, though it was sure to bring a little adrenaline to the Horde. He was about fifteen feet above the ground when he leaped off the edge, yelling battlecries to his gods and the Horde. Timing it he took the impact with his shoulder, rolling and getting up. He heard a crack, but he was in the thick of battle, the bloodlust cancelling out his pain. He cut and hacked his way through bones and flesh as he forced his way forward. He heard a familiar voice cry out in pain, and he turned to his left to see his father fall dead over his already slaughtered mother.  
All he remembered next was the chilling sound of his voice as he cried out in rage and pain, and the feel of his axe as it ripped through anything it came across. Blinded by rage, he remembered falling upon the body of an enemy and drinking it's still warm blood. Oh how he loved the taste of the warm crimson liquid dripping down his rough tongue. The bitter metallic tang that caressed his mouth, and warmed his body, was all the nourishment he could ever ask for. Indeed he sat there, revelling in the taste of the blood until a sneaky human rogue smacked him across the head with a mace, knocking him out.  
Fortunately he was mistaken for dead, and so when the Alliance were finally driven out, he was still alive. He felt the opposite for a long while though, as though he should have died honourably with his parents. Now he knew though, he had to live, to revenge as it was his destiny. So he trained and honed his skills, acquiring professions to aid him in his revenge against the Alliance as a whole. In his eyes they were all evil, guilty as a whole for the crime committed against his parents. He now frequently wandered the Gulch, and when asked about his name he replied only "I am the Flagbearer."


End file.
